


Continued Story

by forschia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Headcanon, Murder, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forschia/pseuds/forschia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny and Kuchel realized that the world was a cruel place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Continued Story

**Author's Note:**

> Kenny is the world's greatest git, period. But I don't think he's born evil.

_Run!_

That’s all he could think about; although he barely could see the direction he was going to.

_Run!_

Twice he had run into a dead end, but he’s lucky enough he had time to look for detour. He didn’t know how long he had been running like this. And for the umpteenth times, he bumped into a concrete brick in full speed; he was bounced to the ground, sprawling on his back. A small bundle of fabric dropped from the front of his shirt. He was too engaged with checking his back so he didn’t aware that he just ran straight into a wall.

_Run! Damn it! Run!_

Rubbing a bruise on his forehead, he got back on his feet and snatched the bundle, slipping it back inside his shirt, then continued to the left with headlong dash into endless darkness.

It's always like that in the Underground City. The overpopulated slum just below the Capital Mitras was a home of lowly humans who were unworthy to live on the surface. An abandoned underground, left over from the sealed immigration plan where the sky was a roof of stalactites, only had sources of light from torches on the main road and the weak candlelight radiated from the windows of moderately more prosperous residents.

He reached an intersection; all roads were looking unfamiliar and threatening. Following his gut feelings, he scurried to the right, knocking over empty trashcans and making a lot of noises.

“HE'S OVER THERE!” shouted a man behind him.

“AFTER HIM! WE'LL GET HIM THIS TIME!” yelled another man.

Twelve years old Kenny Ackerman was running for his life in the narrow alley. His scrawny legs were shaking under the pressure of continuous exertion. His heart was thumping against his ribcage, combination of unrelenting trepidation and the rush of adrenaline. The burning sensation filled up his lungs as if he breathed fire instead of air. Rumbles and shouts, hastened footsteps and a lot of swearing chased him; he knew his pursuers would catch up with him very soon.

Ignoring the circumstances that the sole of his feet was bleeding, he ran relentlessly, but what greeted him at the end of the alley was giving him a series of full body tremors.

Another dead end.

Now utterly feeling hopeless and terror-stricken, Kenny racked his brain for a way out. He looked wildly around but surely anything near him couldn’t help him to flee: high stacks of crates at the corner; planks and scraps of wood piled up haphazardly; and what seemed to be an accumulated dirt and garbage from previous millennium covered the entire ground. He looked up high, thinking to escape to the rooftop but the wall was too high to be climbed up.

Suddenly, what he must do became crystal clear: he had to stop running, and fight back.

He stored the bundle, which he had clung for dear life under his shirt, behind the wooden planks. Climbing the crates was an easy task because he’s so thin; he hopped up swiftly, moving his sticklike limbs like spider.

Kenny crouched down on the top of the highest crate, hiding himself in the shadow.

_Kill… Or be killed…_

He waited for the perfect moment to ambush. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to be calm and readying himself for the worst that about to come.

_Come at me, you filthy bastards!_

Rumble of footsteps came to a halt, and Kenny heard a man saying just below him, “Fuck! Where the hell is he?!”

Holding his breath, Kenny opened his eyes then jumped at him.

***BAM!** *

A hard kick on the back of the head (along with a sickening crack voice Kenny thought he had snapped his neck as well) was enough to subdue the first man. Whether he’s still alive or not, Kenny had no time to check; the other man attacked him from behind, strangling his neck with bulky arm.

“I GET HIM!” the man shrieked. “HE’S HERE!”

Kenny choked, what had been felt like a fire inside his chest now felt like an inferno as if a gallon of gasoline had been poured into his lungs. He tried to retaliate; in his desperation, he pulled from the waistband of his pants a rusty knife and thrust it to the attacker's eye.

“AAAAAAAAARGH!”

A howl of agony was pounding painfully to Kenny's ears. The man released Kenny, falling on his knees and clutching his bloody eyes where the knife still stuck inside, still screaming horribly.

Wheezing and gasping for air, Kenny stood up at once. The size of his gaunt body and the fact that he’s still a child didn’t seem to cause him any trouble to haul the attacker by his collar and slam his head to the wall. Pulling his knife out with a disgusting squelching sound, Kenny proceeded to whack him repeatedly until he lost consciousness; the skin on his knuckles tore as he broke his nose and jaws.

***WHAM!** *

It was merely couple of seconds later when Kenny finally realized there’s still another man, and he was foolish to let his guard down. The third man hit him in the head so hard he felt as if his head had been cleaved in two; he thudded, his knife slipped from his fingers. A sturdy boot made contact with the side of his chest, and he’s certain that his ribs had shattered to pieces.

“YOU—” another kick on his side, “—LITTLE—” one kick to his stomach “—FUCKER!” a hard stomp landed on his chest. “HOW DARE YOU STEALING FROM US!”

The last kick was so almighty it made Kenny thrown couple meters backward. He crashed into the pile of woods, coughing out blood as he tried to crawl under the debris. The third man was bending over to the man near the wall — whose face now so bloody and battered awfully it hardly recognizable as a human — and looking very horrified when he realized he’s not breathing anymore.

“You—!” he shrieked, staring around to see the other man lying lifelessly on the ground with head twisted in weird angle, then glared at Kenny. “YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS?!”

Kenny gasped, feeling immense shock crept into his spine, when their eyes met. The man gave a look that Kenny knew very well, because he had seen that kind of look multiple times before.

The familiar look of vicious and murderous intent, like a beast who was about to hunt down its prey.

_He’s gonna kill me!_

Every second counted. Every move, every decision, every step he’s gonna take would decide his fate.

There’s no time to falter.

The man dashed to Kenny with cold fury emanating from his body. As though there was a lightning jolted his body, Kenny jumped and kicked him in the groin then dived away to reach his knife.

_Kill or be killed!_

The man, who had lost control completely, bellowed like a wounded animal. He seized a big portion of plank and threw it at Kenny, who dodged, then stooped down to pick another one.

In the meantime, Kenny saw a perfect opening. He leapt on the man’s back, thrusting his knife to his back, to his shoulder, to his neck, and to every bit of flesh he could reach. It happened so fast, the man didn’t have time to react or defend himself. With one last swing of his knife, Kenny managed to slit his throat.

Kenny hopped off and retreated back to the wall, hand still pointing the bloody knife. The man trotted to Kenny and made a gargling voice, seizing his neck with blood dripping to his sleeve, then fell on his back with a heavy thump.

Panting heavily, totally beaten up and weary, Kenny leaned to the wall and surveyed the mess he’d done: pools of blood and corpses, as usual.

Not long after that, another voice of yelling and cursing made him jerked.

Out of the darkness, the last pursuer was running from the opposite alley, lunging forward at him.

Without further ado, Kenny screamed and marched to him, both hands gripping the knife and aiming it straight to the man's heart.

* * *

Still massaging his sides, Kenny limped on the sidewalk, trying to track his way back to his hideout. He halted before a window of a house, staring at his own reflection, then frowned. 

His hair was matted with congealed blood. Many cuts on his arms, specks of blood on his face, and the purple-and-blue bruises on his forehead were obvious to tell that he just had a fight. Sighing petulantly, Kenny knew she would be panic when she saw him covered with blood like this. So, no, he would not go back to her with this messy look.

He knelt beside a puddle of muddy water near the sidewalk, splashing the water to his face and arms. His wounds stung when the water touched his skin.

After few minutes of hasty cleaning (his knife included), he checked himself again in the window, feeling satisfied that the stains of red were gone. The putrid smell hid the nauseating metallic scent of blood; it would be better to be stinky as gutter than making her freak out again.

Passing few blocks and some execrable squalid slums, Kenny arrived his hideout. The so-called hideout was actually the biggest dump in the Underground City. It was a wide complex of collective waste from the surface and from Underground, producing revolting smell that lingered in the air and could be smelled from a distance of fifty meters.

Kenny straightened his back, walking with steadier step as he squeezed his way through a mountain of garbage and homeless people, who, like Kenny, had no better place to hide. He quickened his pace to the end of the alleyway, searching for his sister. He was feeling coldness ran through his body as if his blood had turned into slush, when he got to his nook and she was nowhere to be found.

“Kuchel?”

Kenny blinked and looked around more meticulously. At first, it looked like a stack of dirty old rag, until he recognized her greasy black hair.

Kuchel was curling in fetal position near an overloaded trashcan, long legs tucked into her emaciated chest. Her ribs and collarbone jutted out inside; one skinny arm was slung over her face. It was very hard for Kenny to notice her because she barely moved, not even appeared breathing; it looked like she was a part of the ground.

_Fuck! Don't tell me she's dead!_

“Kuchel!” said Kenny, crouching down and shaking her shoulder. “Kuchel! Wake up!”

Kenny heaved a deep sigh when she slowly moved her arm to show her pasty complexion. Kuchel moaned weakly, eyelids fluttering open and a pair of grey eyes gazing aimlessly.

“Big brother…” she said, propping herself into sitting position. “You're finally back…”

“Damn it, you scared the hell out of me…” he said breathlessly.

“What took you so long?”

“Just a little detour, to make sure no one’s following me,” he retorted, taking out the bundle from under his shirt. “Here. I get food.”

“I'm not hungry,” she mumbled, leaning to the wall.

“Don’t be an idiot. You haven't eat anything since yesterday.”

Kenny showed her what were wrapped inside the bundle: chunk of breads blanketed with black mold, four shriveled apples, and a little piece of cheese. But Kuchel showed no interest to the food; she looked up to Kenny, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“How did you get it?”

“Some merchants gave it to me.”

“You're lying,” she guessed quickly. “You stole from them. Again.”

Kenny rubbed off the thick mold from the bread with his fingers, trying to not make an eye contact with her.

“Did you get into another fight?” she asked with the same accusing tone. “Your face —”

“I’m fine.”

“Brother, you’re bleeding!” she yelped, spotting many cuts on his arms still oozing. “How could you get —”

“I’m fine, okay?” said Kenny impatiently, dropping the biggest chunk of bread to her lap. “Just shut up and eat.”

Kenny sat down beside her and gobbled the moldy bread with indecent enthusiasm as if it's the best food in the whole world. Kuchel only stared at her bread with dull eyes and didn’t look to have appetite.

A little far away from them, some men were arguing over what seemed to be a leftover of food, which just fell from the hole above the dump. Probably the rich nobles on the surface got bored with their exquisite food and . Kenny watched those people cautiously, slipping his bundle of food behind his back.

Kuchel moved closer to Kenny, seemed to feel a bit startled with the commotion, grasping her big brother arm. “Should we share with them?” she asked.

“No,” said Kenny in instant, still glancing cautiously. He’s not sneaking into a den of greedy merchants and coming back in one piece just to share food with strangers. “We’re gonna leave to northern district in few days. We need many food, as many as we can get or we’re gonna die along the way.”

“We’re leaving?” said Kuchel, very confused. “But what about grandpa? Did you find him?”

“No, and I don't know where he's now…” said Kenny bitterly. “His house was empty by the time I got there. It’s not safe for us to stay in this district any longer. Now eat your food.”

With a reluctant, Kuchel nibbled the bread with almost nonexistent enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the contention had grown into a brutal brawl; screams of pain and shouts of vile cursing mingled in the air. Kuchel stopped nibbling and glanced over with apprehensive look.

“Don’t worry about them,” said Kenny. “They’re not gonna get us, as long as they don’t know we have food.”

“Grandpa…” Kuchel muttered sadly, turning her head to Kenny. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” said Kenny, had just started to gnaw the apple. “At least he's not dead yet,” he added in a relieved tone.

“Big brother…”

“What?”

“Mom and dad…are they really gone?” she asked in brittle voice.

The dry apple painfully stuck inside Kenny’s throat as if he was swallowing shards of glass.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Asking me over and over again won’t change that fact, so you better stop.”

Kuchel hadn’t continued eating her bread because she was too busy wiping her tears with the back of her hands.

“I…miss them so much…” she sniveled.

“Me too.”

“Who are those people…men in black coats?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Are we – are we gonna die, too?” said Kuchel desperately, her voice pitched. “Why, why do they keep chasing us? Where did we go wrong?”

“Kuchel, listen to me,” said Kenny, staring at her deeply in the eyes. “Remember what dad said to us? We must find grandpa. He knows something we don’t, why everything is so messed up like this… Until we know what the hell is going on, we’re not gonna give in just because there are mad people out there pointing guns at our heads.”

Kuchel was not looked convinced. She shook her head and started to cry again. “I’m scared… Big brother…”

“We’re gonna be just fine,” said Kenny firmly. “We’re gonna find grandpa, and soon enough, we will go back to the surface and leave this shitty underground forever.”

“To the surface…” said Kuchel, her face brightened at once. “Can we go back to our old house?”

Kenny didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I wish we can go back there,” Kuchel continued in calm voice, eyes gazing aimlessly. “I want dad to push me on the swing. And I’d love to play in the river again, with you. Mom always get mad at us when we go home with our clothes soaking wet,” she paused, smiling thinly as she remembering that moment. “Then she will make stew so we won’t catch cold, and we have dinner together… I wish we could go back, to the way things were…”

“Mom and dad are dead,” said Kenny flatly. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

His words were successfully making her broke into more heartbreaking sobs, as if Kenny had slapped her on the face.

“Stop crying,” said Kenny imploringly, but her sobbing didn’t cease in the slightest. “I don’t want to make you sad, but they’re dead. This is reality.” He dabbed her teary eyes with his sleeve. “I assure you, we’re gonna be just find. And when we’re back to the surface, I’ll be the one who push you on the swing. I’ll try to make stew for you, but don’t expect me to cook something tasty like mom. And we’ll play in the river, swimming or catching fish or doing whatever you like. I’ll do everything you want me to do, okay? But right now,” Kenny insisted, his voice softened, “you must eat.”

Kuchel bit her chapped lips, in her effort to stop crying, until it bled, then she hastily shoveled down the bread. It was taking a long time until she finished.

“You should sleep now,” said Kenny, wrapping the leftover food. “We’re going to northern district as soon as possible. I’ll try to find more food tomorrow. Remember, don’t follow me, don’t ever leave this place until I get back.”

Kuchel inclined her head.

“Brother…”

“Hn?”

“If I wake up tomorrow, I will see you again, right?”

Kenny cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You won't leave me like mother and father, right…brother?” There was a dread in her voice. She stared at him beseechingly, both of her hands seizing his. “You will stay with me, right?”

Kenny wrapped his arms around her bony shoulders, pulling her closer to his chest. He could feel her shivering in his embrace. He nuzzled her cheek and whispered to her ear:

“I'm not gonna leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Kuchel tilted her head to look at him, and for the first time in such a long, long time, Kenny saw a beatific smile on her hollow-cheeked face. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, which made her exploded into tears again.

“Big – hic – brother —” she said tearfully. “I – hic – love you – hic —”

“Sleep,” Kenny repeated, gently patting her head. “And stop crying for Heaven's sake.”

Still hiccupping, Kuchel laid down on the ground, resting her head on his lap; one hand clutching the front of his tattered shirt as if she wanted to make sure that Kenny would not go anywhere while she's sleeping. The boy kept patting her head, running his fingers through her lice-infested hair, until her snivels died out and she fell into dreamland.

The wearisome burden on his shoulder felt slackened when he heard her sister purring peacefully. He just acted strong and cool in front of her, doing his very best to keep his face straight and calm even tough his inner self wanted to cry out in unbearable anguish. Kenny wiggled his toes, groaning under his breath. Running barefoot for God only knows how far, he anticipated the lacerations on the soles of his feet wouldn’t heal until few days. His head still gave nasty throbs, even with the lightest touch he felt like someone hammering his skull. He breathed very gingerly because each inhalation and exhalation felt like there were sharp knives shredding his chest muscles, which made he suspected few broken ribs.

Suddenly, his hands trembled. He still could feel the warmth of fresh blood when he thrust his knife. He could visualize perfectly the petrified looks on his enemies’ eyes when they realized they’re about to die. His gut churned abysmally; he thought he’s going to vomit when he recalled how close he was with death…

Today, he could have died, like yesterday, or like the day before yesterday, or like few weeks ago when men in black suit came out of nowhere, chasing him and spraying bullets at him.

He was just being lucky to survive. At least, with abundant of miracles he never expected would be bestowed upon them, they survived today. They survived this far.

A single tear slipped his eye, running down his cheek and falling on his sister's hair.

_Why are we living in a hell like this?_

Today was not the first time he killed people, and definitely would not be the last.

His choice was limited with two options: kill or be killed. Not a common selection for twelve years old. But since the day when he went home only to discover his mother’s corpse on the dining room floor, his life had turned upside down. They got separated with their father on their way to Capital Mitras, and the last thing his father said to them was they had to find their grandfather, who’s residing somewhere in Underground City. Kenny didn’t know what happened to him afterwards, but the consecutive loud bang of rifles, from the direction of forest that his father had headed, clearly told him — even though he always wished he was wrong about it — that his father was executed.

So, when Kenny arrived in the most depressing and inhospitable place he’d ever known, he had a personal wanted list, besides his grandfather.

He must find them, people who responsible for making his life miserable, for murdering his parents, his aunt, his cousins…and many others of his relatives. He already lost count because too many had died.

His knife, which he had tucked carefully in the waistband of his pants, pressed against his skin with an uncomfortable sensation as though it was giving off burning heat. His desire for revenge, the injustice his family had suffered, the endless oppression and persecution… All the thoughts filled him with deepest resentment. He quickly wiped away his tears. Overpowering hatred consumed him, so powerful, he ended up making a vow that etched to the depth of his heart.

_I swear, I will find them and kill them all!_

Kenny came back to his senses when low guttural voices disrupted his vindictive thoughts. Kuchel slurred in her sleep, face screwing, muttering some incomplete phrases:

“…mother…”

Kenny made a soft hush voice, repeatedly stroking her shoulder to lull her to sleep again. Finally, her face smoothed out and she looked very serene, sucking her thumb.

“Nightmares again, huh?” he murmured.

Unlike him, his adorable and gentle little sister went through a harsh time to adjust herself with their new life, Kenny even worried she might had been not in her right mind anymore. Maybe she didn’t how to cope with this hellish situation, or maybe the reality was too cruel she didn’t want to believe it actually happened. Sometimes, she jabbered many things incoherently, talking as though their parents were still alive, as though she and Kenny only went for dreadful vacation, as though everything was a nightmare that made her scream and she would wake up tomorrow in her bed, clutching her favorite doll…

_If I'm dead, what will happen to her?_

They only had each other to depend on in this living hell. The raging hatred that blazed inside his chest slowly faded away when she rolled over, showing her innocent face to him. Smiling faintly, Kenny caressed his sister’s forehead, brushing her straggly hair away from her face.

Even though he had lost so much, he still had something he treasured with his life.

“I love you, too. Little sister.”

It didn’t sound as the way he wanted it to. It was spoken so softly, too genuine; it’s hardly comprehendible that a little boy who had just murdered four grown men mercilessly could talk in such loving manner.

It could be the opposite though. Maybe he was indeed a caring big brother, sweet little boy, but reality broke his soul, destroying his innocence, molding him into ruthless murderer who didn’t have a heart to spare any pity for his enemies.

In this cruel world, what choices did he have? Abandoned his conscience to kill, or clung to morality to be killed?

_When you wake up tomorrow, you will see me again._

Kenny shut his eyes, leaning against the wall, letting the pain and exhaustion taking over his body. His fighting was done for today, but tomorrow…

Tomorrow. That word always haunted Kenny. Tomorrow was full of uncertainty. Whatever lied in tomorrow was everything he always scared of: would they survive? Could he find food? Would those men in black suit hunt them again? How could he find his grandfather?

Regardless from what would happen, he had to survive.

Even if it meant he had to become a monster, or to fight against the whole world, or to stain his hands with ocean of blood…

So be it.


End file.
